


Homeward Bound

by d0g-bless (d0gbless)



Series: A New Breed of Training [15]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Babies, Birthday, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic, M/M, Multi, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Post-Canon, Post-Series, shidge and a dog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 08:00:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16806631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/d0gbless/pseuds/d0g-bless
Summary: In which Halley goes on an incredible journey, the gang celebrates Pidge's birthday, and the newest family member finally comes home.





	Homeward Bound

**Author's Note:**

> I have not forgotten about this series. I have a few fics I'm still working on. I wanted this one out of the way before writing anything for [Shidgemas](https://merry-shidgemas.tumblr.com/), which you should definitely participate in. (Not biased at all since I pulled together that event together or anything like that.)

Halley’s paws ached with each step she took. Her nose twitched at the scent of blood dripping through her cracked paw pads. She couldn’t be that far away from home, right?

Her white fur shined like silver beneath the desert moonlight.

Whenever Peanut and Metalpaw took her out to the Ranch in their metal monster, it took less than a day. More like the blink of an eye or the time it took her to eat a giant Milk-Bone treat. And that thing had four legs just like her. If she really tried her best, she could beat it in a race, right? Still, it was too big and loud to even attempt a race. Halley had seen what those round paws could do to a squirrel that hadn’t gotten out of the way in time. She knew better than to challenge the metal monsters to a race or a fight.

Then again, she also knew better than to keep going when her paws hurt this badly, but there wasn’t much shelter out in the desert. Lots of dust, sand, and — wait. Halley took a whiff of the air. Something small, scaly… and not far away. She stuck her nose in against sand. Ick. Sand. So itchy against her nose. Halley sneezed, creating a cloud of dust and sand.

The sound startled a lizard into fleeing for shelter.

There it was! The source of the small, scaly smell! Saliva dribbled from her jowls. Halley growled and gave in to her instinct to chase her prey. She bounded off after the lizard, ignoring the trail of bloody pawprints she left behind.

The lizard, far more adept at desert-dwelling and survival than the average Great Pyrenees, burrowed beneath a study rock formation.

Halley, though new to this game of survival, had lost the trail of her prey, but at least she’d found shelter for the night. She curled up against the rocks and waited for dreams of Peanut and Metalpaw to come to her.

* * *

Lance poured Halley’s food into her bowl, exactly as Pidge had instructed him. “Two and a half cups in the morning, then another two and a half at night,” he recited. He then ignored Pidge’s instructions and followed Shiro’s, which meant including one large Milk-Bone on top for each meal.

He rattled the food around in the bowl, then set it down on the kitchen floor. “Weird.” Normally Halley would come running at full speed with that obnoxious sound alone. She was fast enough to beat him before he could put the bowl down. Lance picked the bowl back up and wandered outside to the porch.

The rising sun peeking out from the horizon line warmed the smooth wood beneath his bare feet. It wasn’t quite the feeling of sand beneath his toes at Varadero beach, but it was a warmth he’d grown to love over the last few years.

Lance set the bowl down again, then cupped his hands around his mouth. “Halley! Halley, breakfast is ready!”

No response. Lance’s hands fell to his sides.

“She’ll eat when she’s hungry, Lance.”

Maybe Lance wasn’t entirely used to the warm porch, but at least he was used to Keith sneaking up on him like that. Now that was something — no, someone — he’d definitely grown to love. “I get that you trained with the Blade of Marmora, but I’d appreciate it if you weren’t so dang stealthy all the time.” He eyed Keith up and down. Keith wore his Sunday best: His only pair of dark wash jeans without holes and a plaid red button-up with a black V-neck T-shirt underneath. Lance gestured to all of Keith. “I mean, when did you get dressed this morning?”

Keith caught Lance by the wrist mid-gesture and pressed a kiss on a smooth knuckle. Where his hands were rough and callused, Lance’s were soft and smooth and smelled like shea butter. “When you weren’t paying attention,” Keith replied. “’S not that hard.”

A messy blend of embarrassment and sexual attraction darkened Lance’s face three shades redder than normal. Lance yanked his hand back and rubbed the nape of his neck. “I know.”

“I-I didn’t mean that you’re dumb,” Keith quickly amended. The charismatic, almost prince-like air he’d put on seconds before vanished. In its place was the usual Keith, the one who wasn’t the best at reading people, the one who was easily flustered. “I meant the dog.”

“I know. It’s just not like Halley. It’s weird.”

“It’s _normal_ for her to act weird right now. She’s been here for a few days so Shiro and Pidge can have some time to prepare.”

Lance sighed. “I don’t know, Keith.”

“Who’s the dog owner here, Lance? You or me?”

“Does Kosmo even count as a dog? He’s a cosmic wolf, not your typical house pet.” An offended snort informed Lance that Kosmo himself seemed to think otherwise. “ _That_ would explain how you got here.”

Kosmo made the same sound and padded over to Halley’s bowl.

“No, no, no, no you don’t!” Lance shouted. He scooped the bowl back up, spilling a few chunks of dry dog food kibble in the process. Kosmo snapped up the spilled food and jumped up on Lance for more. “Hey, Keith! Keep your dog out of Halley’s food and my personal space!”

Keith leaned back against the front door and grinned. “No can do. He’s a wolf, not a dog, right?”

“Fine, fine, fine!” Lance spoke fast enough for those three words to melt into one disastrous sound. “Kosmo counts, he’s a good house pet, just please please _please_ let me get ready to see my — our — newest niece.”

Kosmo’s ears perked at Keith’s sharp whistle and vanished into thin air, then reappeared at Keith’s side. “Hurry up, then. I don’t want to drag you to Shiro and Pidge’s place unless I absolutely have to.” Keith reached for the door handle, then paused at the sound of Lance snickering. “What?”

“You _sure_ you want to wear your best clothes?”

Keith scowled. “I just want to make a good impression for my best friend’s baby, OK?” He slammed the door behind him, barely muffling Lance’s hysterical laughter.

* * *

Water. Halley needed water, but all she could taste was salt and the metallic tang of blood.

She ran her tongue over her paw, cleaning out as much sand as she could out of her raw paw pads. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be back on the road. Back to Metalpaw and Peanut’s. There she’d have as much water and food as she needed.

Just a bit longer.

Just a bit.

She forced herself out of the rocks and back on the journey home.

* * *

Shiro tightened his purple- and gray- and white-knuckled grip on the black steering wheel. He glanced at the hospital, then back to the LED clock on his car’s dashboard. _Just a little bit longer,_ he told himself. _A few more minutes._

He considered adjusting the backseat for the fifth time in the last hour. Now that the car seat was with Pidge, it might be easier to push the seat back a little more. Or maybe he could push the passenger seat up more. Wait, what if that was too great of a distance? Maybe he should nudge the passenger seat back, just in case Sammy got fussy and needed Pidge closer to her?

A tap on the passenger window startled Shiro into accidentally honking the car horn. He winced. What if Pidge just got her to sleep? Or what if he scared her? Or scared Pidge into dropping the car seat and therefore dropping Sammy? Then someone would probably have to bring Child Protective Services into the picture and then they’d take Sammy from them and Pidge would be devastated, and so would he—

 _Click._ Pidge opened the back door on the passenger side. “We’re here.”

Thank God.

Pidge held a finger up to her lips. _Quiet._ She tilted her head toward the car seat in her hands. “She’s sleeping.”

Shiro peered into the car seat. Sure enough, Sammy was doing exactly that. Sleeping. The untrained eye would have seen a pile of blankets and oversized hat covering a strange wrinkly creature.

Shiro, however, recognized the wrinkly creature as his daughter, though not all that long ago, he would not have been able to recognize her as he did now.

Wisps of jet black hair poked out from beneath Sammy’s black knit cap. Shiro smiled at the words Lance had carefully and lovingly stitched into it with white yarn: “NICU GRAD _._ ” No sign of any wires for monitoring equipment stuck against her head. No tubes for feeding or breathing, either. Instead, the nurses had wrapped Sammy in some blankets, which rose and fell with her breath. Not just any blankets, but the ones Lance had given Pidge two months and 11 days ago — not that he’d been counting down the days since Sammy had been born or anything. Numbers were Pidge’s thing, and she was the one keeping count.

“She’s all good to go?”

“Yeah.” Pidge snapped the car seat into place. “Sorry it took so long. All the nurses had to tell her goodbye, and the one who had me fill out paperwork would not stop wishing me a happy birthday. We’re lucky she didn’t send me out with all the gift shop’s balloons or something.” She shut the door with more care than usual, then made her way to the passenger seat.

“Nora.”

Pidge clicked her seatbelt into place. “What?”

“The nurse who helped you out with paperwork.”

Thick brown eyebrows furrowed.

“You know, the one who’s stationed at the NICU waiting room desk from 8 a.m. to noon.”

Pidge gave a half-shrug. “I don’t remember all their names.”

“I do.” How could he forget any of them? Sure, he’d rather draw his own blood for testing than have any medical professional do it, and hospitals still scared him stiff, but all the NICU nurses and doctors had made it a slightly more tolerable experience for him. He could now go into a doctor’s office without PTSD-fueled anxiety attacks and without Pidge. Ideally, he’d like Pidge to be with him, but he knew he could survive a doctor’s appointment on his own.

And of course, the staff here had saved Pidge’s and Sammy’s lives. For that, he’d be forever grateful. “I’ll have to send them a thank-you. Maybe some flowers? Or chocolates? But they are medical professionals. Something healthier. Fruit baskets, maybe?”

Pidge snorted. “Are you trying to woo them or help them feel better after a nasty cold? While you’re at it, I might as well create a newsletter updating them on how Sammy’s doing.”

“Can you do that?”

“I was joking, but yeah, I can.” Pidge yawned. “Heck, I could do it in my sleep.” She closed her eyes and muttered something about being awake too early on a day off.

Shiro set the stick shift to drive. “That’d be great.” He glanced at the rear-view mirror and smiled at Sammy’s sleeping reflection.

“She’s fine, Shiro.” Pidge didn’t bother to crack an eye open. “Just focus on the road so we can go home.”

Home. That had a nice ring to it.

* * *

At last! Grass! Trees! Houses!

Halley had never felt better as blades of grass tickled her paws. Soft, soft grass; oh, how she had missed grass! She’d never take it for granted again. She rolled around the suburban savannah, tangling grasses along with the sand already stuck in her now matted fur.

No matter. Where there was grass, there were houses, and where there were houses, there was the place she called home.

Halley pressed her nose against the grass. Nothing familiar there. She took a giant whiff of air. There was something there… Something only one person she knew had ever used… If she followed the scent, then she’d be home before lunch.

She couldn’t wait to see her family.

* * *

“How does the banner look, Hunk?”

“Can’t look now, Allura.” Brown broth splattered onto Hunk’s white apron as he poured thinly diced Arusian tubers into his stew. “If I can’t get the consistency right, this stew will be a disaster.”

“But Hunk—”

Hunk heaved a sigh and glanced to one of his kids. “Rongo, could you and your siblings go help Auntie Allura?”

Rongo groaned. “But Ao’s already helpin’ her!” He pulled his oversized apron over his head. “She wants to be a princess an’ all, so ‘course she’s with Auntie ‘lura already. It’s a silly dream.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with dreams, Rongo.” Colleen Holt picked up Rongo’s discarded apron, tossed it over her head, and tied it around her back. “Besides,” Colleen continued. “Not all that long ago, it’d be a silly dream for a Balmeran to want to be a chef. Isn’t that right, Shay?”

 _Plink!_ Shay set down a dish she’d finished drying. “It is. I remember when I was laughed at because I wanted to see the sky. Such a thing would have been impossible. I never saw it until I was much older than you young ones are.”

Rongo balked at the very thought. “Not seein’ the sky?! She’s makin’ this up, right, Ty?” He nudged his brother, who merely shrugged. Rongo persisted: “She’s gotta be makin’ this up, right, Hodge?”

“I don’t think she is, Rongo,” Hodge said. “I’m gonna go help Auntie ‘Lura.” They toddled off to the living room with Ty joining them a second or two later.”

“What your mother says is true,” Hunk said. “Rongo, please be a good little sous-chef like Hodge and help out Auntie Allura. I won’t ask again.”

Rongo balled his claws up into fists. Of course Hodge, special little Hodge, got the title of sous-chef. They didn’t even want to be a cook! Just because everyone on the Balmera thought Hodge was oh so special didn’t mean he did, though. “Fine,” Rongo growled. He slunk out of the room.

“He’s just having one of those days,” Hunk said to no one in particular as he continued to stir in vegetables.

Colleen patted Hunk’s broad shoulder. “I’m sure he’s a good kid, Hunk. And your food will be delicious no matter what, Hunk. My daughter will eat just about anything you set in front of her.”

That drew a chuckle out of Hunk. “That’s true.” He’d prepared an alien equivalent of Rocky Mountain Oysters for the team before, and not even the curious Pidge had bothered to ask what exactly sat on her plate.

“And she was a picky eater.” Matt attempted to drape an arm over Hunk’s shoulders, but he could only reach his hand to the side of Hunk’s neck. “I’m still amazed she didn’t starve to death when she was searching for me and Dad.”

“Well, we only had so many options.” Keith tied his hair back into a short ponytail. “What else do you need help with, Hunk?”

Hunk scanned the kitchen and stopped at stained and burnt take-out menus. “Move those menus. Should be a cutting board below them. It might need washing.” Hunk shook his head. How Shiro and Pidge lived like this, he’d never understand.

“Okay.” Keith brushed the menus aside. His expression soured when one of them stuck to the cutting board. “Do I want to know what this is?”

“Even I don’t know what it is,” Hunk admitted.

Keith wrinkled his nose. “That’s disgusting.”

“I’ll say,” Lance added through a pinched nose. “Good thing we’re here. Seems like Mommy and Daddy need all the help they can get.”

Matt grimaced. “Please don’t call my sister and Shiro that again. Ever.”

An equally disturbed and disgusted Hunk managed to make a squeamish sound of agreement. “Lance, why don’t you help with the decorations?” Hunk suggested. “I’m sure Allura and Coran wouldn’t mind. I mean, you are the party expert.”

Lance beamed at the praise. “Well, of course I am! Why didn’t you ask for my help sooner? That’s my area of expertise—”

“We know, Lance,” Keith deadpanned. His tone was at odds with the half-smile on his face. “So get going.”

Lance pranced out of the kitchen and into the living room, where he found Allura looking to Coran for guidance. “I don’t recognize what language the banner is in,” Coran said.

“’Cause it’s upside-down!” Ty exclaimed. “It’s s’post to say ‘happy birthday.’”

Coran patted the young’un’s head. “That it is, Ty. That it is.”

“I don’ get it,” Ao said. “Sammy was born a phoeb ago.”

“Two phoebs and 11 quintants, Ao,” Allura corrected. “And it’s for Pidge. Today is her birthday.” She tore the banner down from the wall. “Ao, how about you provide me with some assistance in unfurling this banner for Pidge? I would greatly appreciate it.”

“Of course!” It wasn’t every day Ao saw Auntie Allura and Greatest Uncle Coran, so now was the time to make the best of every minute they had with her. Ao jumped to reach the banner, but she was several feet short.

Hodge tugged at the hoop earring-like horn below their ear. “So today’s Pidge’s birthday. What about Sammy’s?”

“Well, young Hodge,” Coran said as he scooped Hodge up on to his back. “It just so happens that the hospital said Sammy is ready to come home today and today also happens to be Pidge’s birthday. Those two events intersect on the same quintant.” With a grunt, Coran eased himself upright with Hodge perched on his shoulder in a manner he’d heard humans refer to as “piggyback.”

Allura smiled at the sight of Coran and Hodge talking to one another. Though Coran was by far the oldest present, he hadn’t aged a day. In fact, sometimes she couldn’t help but think he was livelier than she’d ever seen him, especially when he played with Hunk and Shay’s hatchlings. _I’d bet every last Groggery I have in my possession that Coran will look and act five deca-phoebs younger when he meets Sammy._

“I got it pinned, Greatest Uncle Coran!”

“Excellent work, cadet!” Coran ran around the living room with Hodge clinging to his shoulders until he was huffing and puffing. “Er, sorry, Hodge. Perhaps you are a getting a tad bit too big for me to carry around like that.”

Hodge scampered off of Coran. “Are you okay?” they asked, voice wavering with concern. Ty and Ao exchanged worried glances.

“I will be, I will be.” Coran collapsed on the nearest sofa. “I’ll just need a tick or two to recover, that’s all.”

Lance clapped. “That’s alright, Hodge! Your cool uncle Lance is here to play!” Lance bent over and winked at Coran as Hodge climbed up on his shoulders. “It’s okay, Coran. You rest up. Besides, Shiro and Pidge should be here any minute now.”

“Oh, I certainly will do just that.” Coran sank deeper into the cushions and sighed dreamily. “You know, this reminds me of the time when King Alfor and I…”

 _At least Groggeries are worthless on Earth._ Allura sighed and set her sights on the driveway, where a sleek black car inched its way into the garage. “They’re here!” she cried. “Get into position!” Even after all these years, her voice carried the same authority as it had on the battlefield.

Everyone followed her command and hid themselves without making a sound. Lance tossed a blanket over Coran and made a mad dash for the kitchen pantry, where Matt, Allura, Keith, and Hunk hid. Shay and the hatchlings dropped down on the dining room floor and curled up into balls.

Matt pressed his ear against the pantry door. _Wait for it…_

“Mom? What are you doing here?”

“Here, let me take that for you.” Colleen set something down on the kitchen table gently.

“Mom, you can’t just—"

“Can’t? Can’t what?” Colleen laughed. “Can’t I just drop by to wish my daughter a —”

 _And there it is._ Matt pushed the pantry door open and signaled to the others to follow him through the kitchen and into the dining room. The Balmerans stayed low until Pidge and Colleen turned the corner, then leapt on to their feet. Joyous exclamations of “Happy birthday!” and “Welcome home!” and “Congrats, grad!” greeted the Shirogane-Holts.

Before either Shiro or Pidge could properly respond in kind, a new voice joined the chorus in a high-pitched wail.

 _Sammy._ Shiro, who had mere moments ago trailed a foot or so behind Pidge, rushed to the car seat that Colleen had planted on the table. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetie,” he cooed. His arm creaked as he rocked the seat back and forth. “I’m here. You’re safe.” He fumbled with the seatbelt straps holding his screaming daughter in place.

“Here, let me get that.” Pidge slipped beneath one of Shiro’s arms. _Click._ Her calloused hands freed Sammy from the restraints and scooped her out of the seat, one hand cupping Sammy’s head and neck, the other supporting her rear.

Nearly everyone corralled Pidge and Shiro. Some hoped to get a closer view of their newest family member; others offered advice and asked questions that Pidge couldn’t quite bring herself to answer.

Coran shouted over Sammy’s cries: “What is she saying?”

“I don’t know!” Allura clapped her hands over her ears. “Is she singing?”

Colleen shook her head. “Coran’s right. She _is_ saying something.”

“My dearest Colleen, please do assist in your translation of Sammy’s screeches,” Coran pleaded. “Anything to make her stop.”

Colleen wondered what sounds infant Alteans made. “Well, it’s not exactly a translation, but Sammy is trying to tell us she needs something.”

“Then get her the quiznaking thing she needs!”

“Coran!” Allura admonished. “Watch your tongue!”

“Princess, if she can’t communicate through speech, I highly doubt she can understand our extensive vocabularies, including expletives like ‘quiznak.’” Coran looked to Lance. Lance had the biggest family, so hopefully he could provide more information. “Er, right?”

Rather than confirm that Sammy didn’t comprehend language yet, Lance cracked his knuckles. “Okay, let’s see what Uncle Lancey-Lance can do.” He lowered himself to Sammy’s level and covered up his face with his hands. “Razzle…” Neatly plucked brows rose up behind his fingertips. “…Dazzle!” Lance gestured with jazz hands, revealing a crossed-eyed expression. “Did it work?”

Pidge rolled her eyes and rocked Sammy gently, like she was going to break. “What do you think, genius? She’s still crying.”

“Good try, man.” Hunk offered Lance a reassuring smile and turned to Pidge. “Let’s try something logical.”

“Okay?”

“Process of elimination. When babies cry, it’s usually because they need, like, four things: A change, food, sleep, or play. Sammy’s been around long enough that she probably has a specific cry for one of these things.”

Pidge met Shiro’s worried — ashamed, maybe? — gaze.

“She’s never really cried. The only time I heard her cry was…” Shiro trailed off, suffocated by the memory of that terrible day. “Pidge, did the nurses tell you if she cried?”

Guilt and fear tightened their grip around Pidge’s throat. All the nurses had prattled on and on about what a good, quiet little thing Sammy was. None of them mentioned if she’d cried or got upset or fussy. But then again, why would they? She and Shiro had gone through the wringer with Sammy. No one, not even the NICU nurses, would’ve wanted to worsen her anxieties. Or maybe the nurses truly hadn’t heard Sammy cry. _Is it bad if she doesn’t cry?_ A foolish question, now that Sammy, cradled in her mother’s arms, screamed and cried like she’d been dropped on her head.

“Hey,” Keith barked. “Back off.” His words took everyone else in the room aback. A collection of wide eyes and gaping mouths stared at him.

Lance recovered from the shock first. “Listen, you’ll get your turn if you wait like everyone else.”

“That’s rich,” Keith said with a snort. “None of you guys are waiting your turn. Shiro and Pidge are getting overwhelmed, which is probably why they walked out the door just now.”

Everyone spun back to where Shiro and Pidge had stood only a few seconds ago. True to what Keith had said, they were gone without a trace.

“Well, then.” Coran tugged at an end of his mustache. “That would explain why it’s so quiet all of a sudden.”

Allura dipped her head in shame. She should have paid better attention to her dear friends’ feelings, and she hadn’t. “That it does.”

“This surprise birthday party thing was all my idea,” Lance mumbled. “It’s my fault Sammy got all upset.” He wilted at his acknowledgment. “Guess we should go home and make sure Halley ate her breakfast.”

“Uh, Lance?” Matt gestured for Lance to join him to look out the living room window. “As much as I’d hate to burst your sad, mopey little bubble, I don’t think that will be necessary.”

* * *

Maybe she was lost, after all. While Halley had followed her instincts to the best of her ability, perhaps it had not been enough to keep her on track. The porch, the one where Peanut and Metalpaw should be waiting for her, was empty. The driveway, however, was packed with all sorts of vehicles.

And whatever was cooking inside this place had a scent that had to be in the most literal sense of the phrase, out of this world.

No. This _had_ to be home. It just had to be it. There’s no place like home, and this was the only place Halley knew as home.

But she was tired, oh so tired. Her legs wobbled with each limp. Could she make it another step? Just one more?

Halley stumbled and fell down. No. She could not. At this rate, the porch steps would be too much for her to tackle head-on. For now, she’d lay here and rest. At some point, someone, anyone, would come out and help her. They had to.

They just… had… to.

Halley closed her eyes. She dreamt of Metalpaw and Peanut sitting on the porch, of a howling human pup in Peanut’s arm, and of Peanut’s and Metalpaw’s hushed barks and whines. “She’s too fussy to eat anything, Shiro.”

Metalpaw sniffed the pup. “She smells clean.”

“Okay, so if we’re trying Hunk’s idea, she’s probably good on most of those things. She doesn’t need a change, she _might_ not be hungry, and since she napped all the way home from the hospital, she probably doesn’t need to sleep for a little bit.”

“Maybe she needs her blankets.”

“But that would mean going back there and dealing with my 27th birthday party I didn’t want or ask for while playing 50 rounds of _20 Questions_ about the baby,” Peanut whined. “Shiro, that’s 1,000 questions. I don’t want to answer 1,000 questions because I don’t know all the answers.”

“That’s not how _20 Questions_ works. On the bright side, we’d win since Sammy would probably be the answer to all of them.”

Peanut snorted. “You know what I mean.”

“At least they care.”

“That’s a pretty low standard.”

“I’m serious,” Metalpaw said. “They all went out of their way to help us get ready for her. I’m not surprised they threw us a party like this. It’s sweet.”

“And a little annoying?”

Metalpaw grunted in agreement. “Maybe a little.”

“I guess I wouldn’t mind going back in once Sammy’s calmed down.” Peanut looked down at the little howling creature in her arms. “Don’t think that’s happening anytime soon, though.”

“Hey, it’s your birthday. How about I take her out for a little walk while you go have fun?”

Walk?

As if by some magic spell, Halley found the energy to rise up on all four paws and limp over to Metalpaw.

“Halley?” No. Shiro rubbed his eyes. That injured, filthy four-legged creature bore little to no resemblance to Halley. Where Halley had a well-kept white fur coat, this animal had matted red, brown, and orange fur.

Metalpaw! She barked as loudly as her parched throat would allow. Peanut!

The way the dog looked at Pidge and went over to her first… There was no mistaking it. This poor unfortunate soul was Halley, who looked like she’d come from the depths hell and back.

“Halley.” If not for the baby in her arms, Pidge would have run to Halley to inspect the dog’s matted, sand-coated fur. Instead, she settled for hoisting Sammy to rest her head on her shoulder and slowly, ever so slowly, making her way down to Halley’s level. “Halley, what are you doing here?”

I’m home! She wagged her tail furiously. I missed you! She nudged her nose against the pup on Peanut’s shoulder and sniffed. Amazing what one little whiff could tell her about something or someone. From what she could tell, this was Peanut’s pup, the one that had been in her belly before something went wrong. But she was here now.

“Did you come all this way from the Ranch to meet your baby sister?” Pidge asked.

Halley kept nudging Sammy with her nose until the sobbing, hiccupping baby reached out and grabbed a tiny fistful of sandy fur, then her crying ceased. It was then, in that little moment of contact, that Halley knew she loved Peanut’s pup more than anything else.

“Atta girl, Halley.” Shiro knelt down behind Pidge so he could wipe tears and snot from Sammy’s face, then noticed Sammy’s grip on Halley’s fur. He reached out to free Halley from Sammy’s hold, then stopped as Halley growled at him: Do not touch!

“Easy, Halley,” Pidge warned. “He is not going to hurt Sammy.”

“If anything, Sammy might accidentally hurt Halley. She’s got an iron grip on Halley’s fur.”

Pidge sighed. “Looks like we have ourselves a hair-puller.” Her expression brightened as she kept on talking. “I guess we’ll have to warn everyone else when they hold her tonight.”

“Assuming Halley will let anyone else near her,” Shiro added. “Seems like Halley doesn’t want Sammy to let go.”

Though Shiro had left it unspoken, Pidge understood what else her husband didn’t say: _And neither do I._ That, too, Pidge understood all too well. “In that case, tell them to bring the party out here.”

“Even if that means answering 1,000 questions?”

Pidge grinned. “Especially if that means answering 1,000 questions.”

* * *

The rest of Pidge’s 27th birthday went without a hitch as the Paladins and their kids met Sammy, passing her around from person to person, like stories at a campfire.

Things came around full circle when Shiro planted Sammy into her mother’s arms before thanking friends and family for all they’d done as they headed out the door.

Nothing, not even being abducted by aliens, thrown into Galra fighting pits then into a Black Lion, could have ever prepared him for the sight before him in the living room.

Pidge looked as if she’d spent all day sitting on the sofa, perfectly content with her station in life. She watched over Sammy with a gaze so soft yet intent that made it hard to believe she wasn’t looking at a robot or a new computer. But no, here Pidge sat, cradling their Sammy in her arms as she nursed at her mother’s breast.

Instead of her usual routine of barking at the cars leaving the driveway, Halley had settled down at Pidge’s feet, ears perked as she listened for any sounds of distress from Sammy’s little mouth. She growled a little as Shiro joined Pidge on the sofa, but she put it to rest. For the most part, she was all bark, though even Shiro had to admit, he didn’t want to know what it’d be like if she bit.

“Halley hasn’t left your side, has she?”

“Nope,” Pidge said, popping the _P._ “Though it’s probably more accurate to say she hasn’t left Sammy’s side. She loves our little goober.”

Shiro wrinkled his nose — he wasn’t a fan of the nickname “goober” — and collapsed next to Pidge on the sofa. “How’s 27 treating you so far?”

Pidge started to shrug but stopped herself in case she’d make Sammy unlatch. As she’d learned the first time she was able to nurse Sammy, latching was a stupid thing that neither she nor Sammy were all that great at doing. Nevertheless, with practice, she’d gotten pretty good about getting Sammy to latch onto her nipple, but that didn’t mean it was easy. “It’s kind of hard to compare one day of being 27 to an entire year of being 26, especially since it’s basically been a year of adult milestones on steroids.”

Shiro arched a brow. “Oh?”

“Let’s see here… You brought home a puppy, we got engaged, you got me pregnant —”

“Can’t you say something like ‘we had a baby’ for the last one?”

She rolled her eyes. “First of all, this isn’t the ‘last one.’ I have more milestones. Second, I had bad luck with my birth control, and you probably forgot a condom. Third, regarding that second point, you aren’t the one who had the baby. _I_ had to pee every five minutes, couldn’t sleep, and pushed her out of my vagina, alright? Not you. Me. All me.”

“You’re right.”

“I know I am. I’m always right.” Pidge caught her breath and continued: “We left off at you got me pregnant. Right, then we got married, didn’t have a honeymoon _because_ you got me pregnant and I felt like shit _because_ you got me pregnant, and then I actually had the baby, which was one of the fucking worst experiences in my life.”

Shiro cringed. He’d tried to make it so he didn’t force her into any of this, but somehow, he’d still done it. He’d manipulated her into doing all of this. If she resented him and Sammy for the rest of her life, he’d understand completely. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry?” Pidge snorted. “Why are you sorry? It’s been a crazy year, yeah, but I’ve spent so much of it with you. The only thing I’d change is Sammy being born full-term. And speaking of Sammy, she probably needs to be burped.” Pidge winced as she peeled Sammy, who combined squeaks and grunts into one coherent sound, away from her nipple.

“Nah, I got it.” Shiro picked up Sammy just as Bridgette had instructed him the first time: One hand supporting the back of her head and neck while the other held up her bottom. He lifted Sammy up to his shoulder and patted her back. He remembered how he’d been scared to death to even look at her. Holding her? Yeah, right. It had been only two months ago that he’d thought he’d leave the burping to Pidge. Now he was doing it. Actually doing it. Patting his tiny girl on the back. She wasn’t going to shatter in his arms or under a gentle gesture.

Instead, she spat up all over his shoulder and back and a small section of the sofa.

“This,” Pidge said in a very _I told you so even though I didn’t even say anything_ tone as she watched him clean up. “Is why we use a cloth.” She moved her cloth-armored shoulder to enough make the point and not wake Sammy up from where she’d passed out. “And that was a new shirt, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t mind,” he replied. And it was true. He didn’t. “I’ve been covered in alien guts hundreds, maybe even thousands, of times. Spit-up and dirty diapers are nothing before me!” He struck a heroic pose with his hands on his hips.

Pidge snickered at her dork of a husband. “So you know, when you asked me about what’s it like being 27?”

“Yeah?”

“If I get to see you be that dorky more often now that you’re a dad, I’m probably looking at one of the best years of my life.”

“Careful what you wish for.” Shiro grinned a stupidly handsome grin that made Pidge’s stomach drop. “Hello, I’m Probably Looking At One Of The Best Years Of My Life. I’m Dad.”

Pidge could’ve sworn her eyes glazed over at her husband’s terrible joke. “I created a monster.”

Shiro clasped a hand over his heart in a manner most dramatic. “How could you say that? Sammy is not a monster.”

 _Did I say monster? I take it back. I just unleashed one of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse._ “I wasn’t talking about her, and you know it. But you’re right. In the process to create a dad, you have to create a much smaller monster, only to realize that in the end, you were the real monster all along.”

Shiro bobbed his head slowly, intently, like every word she said was something to seriously consider. “That’s sound logic,” he agreed. “Speaking of sound, how on Earth is Sammy sleeping through all of this?”

Pidge’s brows furrowed as she pondered Shiro’s question. “Pretty sure that by the time we actually go to bed, she’ll start crying again. You know how it goes, the whole thing where the baby keeps Mom and Dad up all night long.”

“We’ve gone through that with Halley. We can do it again.”

Halley’s tail thumped appreciatively at the sound of her name and her humans laughing and bickering as they began to march upstairs. Even though she was certain she’d get a bath and she’d hate every minute of it, she could handle it. She’d missed them, her humans, and now they had their tiny human pup for her to care for and protect.

It was good to be back.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you didn't catch all of the names of Hunk and Shay's hatchlings: Ao, Hodge, Ty, and Rongo Garrett. Ao is female; Hodge is intersex and uses gender neutral pronouns; and Ty and Rongo are male.


End file.
